“I am indeed, miss!” said the girl, independently. “But why? whatever will Mr. Leroux do?” “He'll have to do the best he can. Cook's goin' too!” “What! cook is going?” “I am!” announced a deep, female voice. And the cook appeared beside the maid. “But whatever--” began Helen; then, realizing that she could achieve no good end by such an attitude: “Tell Mr. Leroux,” she instructed the maid, quietly, “that I wish to see him.” Ferris glanced rapidly at her companion, as a man appeared on the landing, to inquire in an abysmal tone, if “them boxes was ready to be took?” Helen Cumberly forestalled an insolent refusal which the cook, by furtive wink, counseled to the housemaid. “Don't trouble,” she said, with an easy dignity reminiscent of her father. “I will announce myself.” She passed the servants, crossed the lobby, and rapped upon the study door. “Come in,” said the voice of Henry Leroux. Helen opened the door. The place was in semidarkness, objects being but dimly discernible. Leroux sat in his usual seat at the writing-table. The room was in the utmost disorder, evidently having received no attention since its overhauling by the police. Helen pressed the switch, lighting the two lamps. Leroux, at last, seemed in his proper element: he exhibited an unhealthy pallor, and it was obvious that no razor had touched his chin for at least three days. His dark blue eyes the eyes of a dreamer--were heavy and dull, with shadows pooled below them. A biscuit-jar, a decanter and a syphon stood half buried in papers on the table. “Why, Mr. Leroux!” said Helen, with a deep note of sympathy in her voice--“you don't mean to say”... Leroux rose, forcing a smile to his haggard face. “You see--much too good,” he said. “Altogether--too good.”... “I thought I should find you here,” continued the girl, firmly; “but I did not anticipate”--she indicated the chaos about--“this! The insolence, the disgraceful, ungrateful insolence, of those women!” “Dear, dear, dear!” murmured Leroux, waving his hand vaguely; “never mind--never mind! They--er--they... I don't want them to stop... and, believe me, I am--er--perfectly comfortable!” “You should not be in--THIS room, at all. In fact, you should go right away.”... “I cannot... my wife may--return--at any moment.” His voice shook. “I--am expecting her return--hourly.”... His gaze sought the table-clock; and he drew his lips very tightly together when the pitiless hands forced upon his mind the fact that the day was marching to its end. Helen turned her head aside, inhaling deeply, and striving for composure. “Garnham shall come down and tidy up for you,” she said, quietly; “and you must dine with us.” The outer door was noisily closed by the departing servants. “You are much too good,” whispered Leroux, again; and the weary eyes glistened with a sudden moisture. “Thank you! Thank you! But--er--I could not dream of disturbing”...